Corey Mesler (poetry)

———————————————————————-Mouth

It’s midnight
in my illusion.
The angel is
made of ash.
The outside is
where I go if
the longing goes
on too long.
It always goes
on too long.
The ceiling light
is dim
like a sun.
The mouth
doesn’t speak.
The mouth is where
I go for the longing.